


Sprained

by KesSkirata



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Kissing, Multi, Post-Slash, Star Wars whump, Thruple, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KesSkirata/pseuds/KesSkirata
Summary: Rebel!Reader gets hurt on a mission and can't make her meeting with the Mandalorian
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Leia Organa/Original Female Character(s), Winter Celchu & Leia Organa, Winter Celchu/Leia Organa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	1. Sprained

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my ori'vod

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you run down the ice-covered stairs towards the spaceport. This was supposed to be a simple pick-up. The informant had notified the Rebellion that they had the datadisk and had hidden it in one of the Rebellion’s drop boxes. All you had to do was pick it up. So much for that.

The stormtroopers behind you are getting closer, their boots sounding loudly on the deserted cobblestone streets of the communa. The hold out blaster in your palm feels small and foreign. There’s a reason you don’t go on dangerous missions, you aren’t cut out for this shootout stuff. Your innocent persona that no one ever suspects during information pick-ups and drop offs is less carefully cultivated than completely accurate. But now they have you pinned down, far from your ship and the Mandalorian the Alliance had hired to ferry you across the galaxy months ago.

He had suggested that he come with you, taking his role of bodyguard seriously, but you had rolled your eyes and left the suggestion unanswered. He would attract far too much attention; it was completely out of the question. Besides, he asked every time, and you only allowed it when the meetings were face to face. But this drop had been a trap and you had been made. You tried to hold back your fear at knowing the Empire had now your face in their datafiles, instead focusing on the immediate danger at hand.

 _There._ The path diverges ahead of you into three narrow passages, and you immediately swing towards the stairs on your left. Now maybe you can lose them. The spark of hope in your chest dies as your boot slides on the ice and you tumble down the hard stone steps.

You roll to a stop 20 meters down, dazed and bleeding from where you’d scraped your knee on a broken cobblestone. _Fierfek._ Hopefully the troopers hadn’t heard that. You push yourself up and try to stand but a blindingly sharp pain in your ankle drops you to your knees again. _Oh No, no no no no no._ Terror grips your chest as you try to stand again, biting back a whimper when your ankle gives out a second time.

The stormtrooper’s boots had stopped at the top of the stairs, where it split into three sections. They hadn’t seen you yet since the stairs where you had fallen curved halfway down, but you could hear the barked orders clearly. They were splitting into three groups. You were out of time. Pushing into a sitting position, you slid yourself backwards across the icy ground until your back hit a wall. Your blaster had fallen not far away, and you reached for it, flicking off the safety and aiming towards the curve of the stairs. You didn’t hear the door behind you over the wild beating of your heart, but you noticed when it swung open and you fell backwards.

An older man with grey in his hair looked down at you, taking in your terrified expression and the holdout blaster you clutched desperately. His eyes flicked upwards to the curve of the stairs, registering the unmistakable tread of stormtroopers, and he lifted a finger to his lips. Then he leaned down, grabbing your arms and dragging you the rest of the way into the house before quietly shutting the door.

You lay on the floor, eyes screwed shut and panting in terror as the stormtroopers marched past your hiding spot. Only when it was quiet did your eyes open.

“Thank you,” you whispered, teeth chattering from fear and cold. The man’s warm brown eyes met yours.

“My daughter joined the Rebellion too” he said softly. “I can only hope someone would do the same for her in this situation.” You nodded gratefully. He extended his hand, and you took it, your face crumpling as your ankle gave out again.

“Where are you injured,” he said, noticing your pain.

“My ankle,” you whisper. “I don’t think it’s bad, but I can’t put any weight on it.”

“Vee,” he called, and a woman came into the room. “get some ice for our guest, I’m going to put her on the couch. She’s part of the same club as Dora.” Understanding and fear dawned in her eyes and she turned to get the supplies without a word. You groaned quietly as the man settled you on the couch, you were going to have bruises for day.

“I need to contact my ride,” you said once your head cleared. The man nodded.

“ I’m going to go grab some gauze and wrap your ankle. Keep the call short, sometimes they monitor frequencies,” he said as he stood and walked away.

You were trembling as you reached for your commlink. Luckily, it had stayed on your belt through the fall. The Mandalorian’s com frequency was second nature now, but your hands shook as you dialed and waited.

“Go ahead” Mando’s terse voice came through the speaker, blaster bolts echoing in the background. Your heart sank. _Of course._ After the trap they had set for you they would have figured out which hangar you’d come from.

“Mando, you have to get out of here,” you whispered frantically. “The drop was a trap. I got made. I’m injured but safe, and I need you to go.” You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he or the Kid died because you’d been careless.

“Osik!” he bit out, “I’m coming for you.”

“No!” you shouted, surprising yourself with your volume. “Get yourself and the Kid out, ill heal up and meet you at the rendezvous point.” He growled something wordless and angry, and your heart swelled a bit at the thought that he cared about you.

“You be careful. You understand me?” his voice was stern when he replied, words pitched to carry over the noise of the _Razor Crest_ ’s ramp being raised into the hull. You listened as he fired up the engines, tears threatening to fall. You didn’t want him to stay and die, but _kriff_ this felt like being left behind.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said softly, “I’m in good hands, I promise.”

“If you need me to, I’ll come back for you,” his voice was gentle now. You could hear the noises of the _Razor Crest’s_ cockpit, buttons clicking as he prepared to jump to hyperspace. The Kid’s little voice cooed something into the comlink and your heart squeezed. 

“I love you,” you whispered as you switched off the commlink, and instantly your heart froze. Oh, _Kriffing hell,_ you hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Your face flushed and you buried your face in your palms. How on earth were you going to face him again? The older man came back into the room, his arms full of medical supplies, and looked at you questioningly.

“I think it’s just a bad sprain dear, no need to worry yourself,” he said soothingly as Vee reentered the room with a tray of soup and an ice pack.

“Would you like something to eat, honey?” she said. You nodded at her and tried to smile, eyes bright with unshed tears.

***

Thousands of kilometers away in hyperspace, the Mandalorian sat motionless, his gloved hand still on the hyperdrive lever. _She loved him? She loved him. She loved HIM._

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika,” he whispered into the blue streaked darkness.


	2. Jumped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebel!Reader finally gets off planet for her rendezvous with the Mandalorian

_ Soft lips met yours under the covers, her impish giggles making your lips tingle. You leaned into the kiss, pulling her down against you. Kissing her was always a battle, one you rarely won. Leia Organa’s competitive streak was unparalleled. She gripped your wrists, pulling them away from her bathrobe and up over your head.  _

_ “Hold still Summer,” Leia laughed, kissing her way down your neck. Her careless use of your codename sent a rush of adrenaline down your spine. You twisted, pulling one of your wrists free and tangling it in her long dark hair. Leia’s eyes widened, and she gasped in surprise. _

_ “Winter, come help me!” you call, giggling breathlessly as Leia’s efforts double. Your counterpart sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring your tussle in favor of a datapad full of top secret Alliance datafiles. _

_ “Leia, we really need to work on this,” Winter said seriously, “Andor’s team is going to move soon, and we need to update them if this new information is accurate.”  _

_ “Stick in the mud,” Leia groaned playfully. The corner of Winter’s mouth twitched almost unnoticeably, but the three of you had known each other since toddlerhood. You and Winter had been chosen as her playmates and future handmaidens at four, and your friendship had made you inseparable in the years since. Winter might as well have been laughing out loud.  _

_ “That’s not what you called me last night,” Winter teased, her silver hair sweeping over her bare shoulders as she turned to face Leia with a knowing smirk. You took advantage of Leia’s distraction to push her gently off of you.  _

_ “What’s the mission Winter?” As soon as the code words were out of your mouth, the dream shifted and changed.  _

_ Leia and Winter were suddenly their real selves. Leia’s dark hair was braided up around her head and Winter’s silver locks cut short. You knew your looks had changed as well. Instead of the three teens in bathrobes from nearly a decade past, you were dressed in your everyday clothes: Leia in an ornate white set of Senatorial Robes, Winter in a New Republic attache’s uniform, and you in your nondescript olive green pants, white shirt and black vest. _

_ Leia’s voice echoed through your head, “We received a transmission from your Mandalorian about the setbacks to your mission. I hope you were able to meet with the informant face to face.”  _

_ Neither you nor Winter were force-sensitive, but living with and loving Leia for decades had connected your minds. When she spoke through the Force, you and Winter could hear her from anywhere across the galaxy. You filled your thoughts with disappointment and unfulfillment, knowing she would sense your emotions from far away Coruscant. _

_ “That’s unfortunate. The next scheduled meeting with the contact is on a planet a few systems away from your current location. I’ll let them know you’ll be there, as long as you are healed enough to move on your own.” You threw out feelings of strength and healing, and saw Leia smile as she understood you. _

_ “Be careful out there Summer, we need you. Winter wants me to tell you good job on grabbing the data disk, and she’s looking forward to cracking it when you get back.” Winter winked at you, and you winked back. It was good to see she was real this time, not just an empty piece of the dream. _

_ Leia held up her palms, pointed outwards, and a dizzying swirl of images overtook you. A map of the galaxy, the planet where you were meeting the informant circled with red; a clock with a date and time; a shuttle passenger ticket; an image of the contact; a string of words you recognized as the recognition code; and finally a rapid fire update of both the information you would give him, and what sort of secrets you were to press out of him.  _

_ “May the Force be with you,” Leia’s voice murmured in your head,  _ and you woke up.

***

“Kriff,” you whispered. There was no way you were going to get anymore sleep tonight. You rolled off of Stavien and Vee’s couch, groaning as your back protested the sudden movement and poor sleeping accommodations. Not that you would ever complain. The couple had saved you from Imperial Stormtroopers, healed your ankle, fed you and hid you for a week now, and you were eternally grateful to them. 

You got to your feet with only a twinge from your ankle and moved to their open window. The cool night air reminded you of the breezes on Alderaan that you had shared with Leia and Winter all those years ago. Thinking of your home world still brought a sharp pain with it, sometimes the hurt was so crushing it was almost as if the Death Star had destroyed it only yesterday. 

You took a deep breath, trying to push down the pain and bitterness you felt. In order to communicate, Leia used memories the three of you all shared. Too often, they were painful reminders of how alone you felt. Leia had Luke and Han and their new baby boy. Winter had her boyfriend Tycho and her team of slicers. You had no one. 

_ You have the Mandalorian.  _ The thought floated through your head and you ruthlessly crushed it. He was not interested in you. He was strong and silent and competent. You were anxious and naive and not capable in the slightest. He was paid to protect you and pilot you and nothing more. Thinking like that would just make your heart ache worse. Still, you missed him and his sweet little green kid terribly.

You grabbed your blanket from the couch and wrapped it around you as the sun rose. If only they could come back to take you to your next mission. But the Razor Crest had been plastered all over the city on wanted posters, it was too dangerous. Stavien had come back with the news a few days ago. The Imperials thought you had made it back to the ship and fled into hyperspace. They weren’t looking for you anymore, at least not on Enisca. You felt fairly confident you could take the passenger shuttle a few systems over to Kelada without being stopped. 

You heard Vee in the kitchen, the delicious smells of caf and pancakes wafting through the air. You needed to tell them you’d be leaving soon, but breakfast would always come first.

***

The com on the Razor Crest chirped, and the Mandalorian dropped into the pilot’s chair to answer it. The faint hope he had that it might be you disappeared when a silver-haired woman appeared in the holo. She smiled pleasantly.

“Good morning, Mandalorian. We’ve heard from Agent Summer. She is fully healed and ready to return to her work.” Din let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  _ You were alright.  _ It had been torture to wait, drifting in the darkness of space, for confirmation that you were still alive and free. 

“I can be at her coordinates as soon as she needs me,” he said gruffly. The woman blinked, surprised. 

“I’m sorry, but your mission is to meet her on Kelada. Apparently the authorities on Ensica are still looking for your ship. It wouldn’t be safe. Her instructions are to join you at the spaceport after she meets with her informant.” Unease swirled in Din’s belly. He didn’t like any of this. He should be going with you, especially after the close call you’d had. And it felt like the height of foolishness to have a top Rebellion spy travel on Public Transport. But it wasn’t his place to debate with your bosses. Din gave the woman a curt nod and cut the transmission.

There was a soft warble behind him, and Din smiled under his helmet. He spun around in the pilot’s chair to pick up his kid. Grogu looked at the hologram receiver, his coos taking on a worried tone.

“She’s alright kid,” Din said. “We’ll go get her soon.” Grogu burbled happily and snuggled into father, clearly sleepy. Din removed his right pauldron and settled the kid against him, rocking the chair slightly from side to side. He pulled up the coordinates to Kelada and reached across his body to pull the hyperspace lever with his left hand.

“I’m coming for you, cyar’ika,” he murmured into Grogu’s wispy hair. 

***

The sublight engines roared as the hyperdrive came online and the stars outside your window streaked into blue-tinged lines. You sighed, deep relief washing through your body. Enisca was well behind you now, Leia’s gamble had paid off. You had made it on board the shuttlecraft without being recognized and arrested.

Stavien and Vee had said their goodbye’s to you under the cover of early-morning darkness at the edge of the spaceport. You had refused to let them accompany you to the airport proper, but had gladly accepted their help in finding your way through the warren of streets that made up the communa. Vee hugged you tightly, and you let her, sensing the hug was more for the memory of her daughter than it was for you. Stavien gripped your shoulder tightly.

“Be careful, Summer,” he said, “I can still accompany you to Kelada if you wish. It would be less suspicious.” You shook your head. 

“I would never forgive myself if either of you came to harm because of me,” you said softly, blinking back tears. “I promise, when I'm back with the Rebellion, I'll look up your daughter and let them know how wonderful and brave her parents are.” You hesitated, but knew you needed to do more to repay them. “If you give me your com frequency, i'll see if they will let her comm you.” Vee was already shaking her head in a firm no before you finished.

“No, it would be too dangerous, if someone traced the call it could lead back to her.” She squeezed your arm. “Thank you, but it would be enough if you tell her that her parents love her.”

“And that we are so proud of her,” Stavien added, a warm smile on his face. Your heart glowed and ached simultaneously at their obvious love for their daughter. 

“Thank you both so, so much, I’ll never forget you or what you did for me.” They nodded at your words. 

“We would do it again in a heartbeat,” said Stavien. “The people of our planet are fed up with our leaders and their luxury, while we live in squalor under their heel. Mayhap more of us will find our way to your Rebellion.”

“Go, you’ll miss the shuttle,” Vee said softly, eyes glittering with unshed tears. You nodded, not trusting your voice, and turned away, shouldering your pack. The data disk from the informant was hidden in a fake datapad, designed to fool Imperial equipment scanners. You were confident it would go unnoticed.

What you were less confident of was your own ability to go unnoticed. 

Vee had obviously had similar thoughts, because yesterday she had brought in a cosmetologist, and together the two of them had transformed your appearance. Your hair was a deep purple now, and your clothes were no longer the practical durable ones that you favored. Your shirt was a deep red, low cut and barely brushing your hip bones. It accented your hair nicely and perfectly displayed the way the golden pendant on your necklace lay nestled in your cleavage. The rough fabric of your tight, dark blue pants caught on your fingertips when you wiped your sweaty palms. Your Rebellion issued hold-out blaster had been traded for a sleek silver pistol that matched the accents on your belt and thigh holster. 

“Better to hide in plain sight, is it not, darling,” the cosmetologist had murmured when you voiced your concerns about your new hair and outfit. “Besides, the hair dye will wash out in little less than a month.” 

You sighed, knowing they were right, and your heart picked up at Vee’s obvious joy in dressing you. At least they were letting you keep your boots. 

The security officers spent more time ogling you than they did checking your fake ID papers. At least the blaster authorization they scanned was real. Enisca’s Imperial government favored strict weapons ownership laws, and you had purchased the blaster and holster legally from one of the shops in the communa with your few remaining credits.

The flashing wanted signs in the spaceport would occasionally display a fuzzy image of the Razor Crest, but you didn’t see any images of your own face among the many that the digital posters cycled through. Boredom and anxiety were your worst enemies during the wait and the long flight. You could only hope you didn’t end up psyching yourself out and botching the meeting a second time.

The acrid smells of industrial armament factories hit your nose as you disembarked. Kelada was a world owned by armament production. Remnant officials had taken control of former Imperial factories and allowed much of the planet to rot into an industrial wasteland. This particular city was home to a great many of the factory workers. You grimaced, seeing the condition of the people in the streets. They looked exhausted, overworked and hopeless. More dangerous elements of society were present as well. Bounty hunters and pirates took commissions from the factory owners against rivals and escaped employees. You would have to be very careful. 

You finally found the cantina that matched the one from Leia’s sending, and stepped inside. Before your eyes could adjust to the dimness, a wanted poster flared to life in the center of the room. The first picture was of the Razor Crest. The second was you.

You stared, frozen, your heart pounding. Your brain was screaming at you, “ _ move idiot, keep your head on a swivel, they're going to notice your panic and realize that’s you, you don’t belong here, you can’t handle field missions, you’re a kriffing courier”  _ but it was already too late. You turned on your heel and rushed out of the bar. 

Your lungs were burning as you gulped down air, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating. Panic blurred the edges of your vision and made your movements unusually jerky and slow. You tried to walk steadily, peering at cantina as you passed them, as though you were looking for one in particular. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone following you.

You pulled the datapad out of your pack carefully, angling the screen to see your stalker a bit better. The icy grip on your heart relaxed when you realized it was the informant. You paused at a shop window, looking at the lacy scarves and letting him catch up to you. 

“Barrilan, Tracsilla, Oberforge” he muttered.

“Halfpir, Triaxis, Lethir” you responded, relieved at hearing the proper recognition codes. You followed him into an alley across the street, and he turned immediately. 

“There isn’t much time, the Princess needs this information immediately and I fear our Imperial masters are on my scent,” he said as he leaned forward, lips brushing your ears as spoke rapidly. 

***

The Mandalorian was growing restless. He hadn’t heard from you yet, although he had checked the spaceport records and knew your ship had landed safely. Grogu was vibing off his tension, and had become increasingly agitated throughout the day. Finally, the ship’s com beeped, and Din was up the ladder in a heartbeat. 

“Mando?” your voice sounded shaky and unsure, a breathy hint of panic worming its way through the words. “I have the information but I think someone is following me. I can’t get back to the spaceport, and there are posters everywhere with my face on them. My kriffing face! I’m scared.”

Din was already moving, thanking his lucky stars Grogu had finally gone down for a nap. 

“I’ll be right there cyar’ika,” he said, gruffly, “can you tell me where you are?”

“No, but-” you hesitated, “I have a tracker on my body, I'll transmit the code to your vambrace. I trust you to find me.” Din felt warmth pooling in his stomach at your expression of faith in him, and he turned, pulling up your coordinates. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, please be careful,” he warned you as he grabbed his pulse rifle and marched down the ramp. 

“Please try to be discreet,” you said softly, and Din chuckled, hearing the faint teasing in your voice. Then blaster bolts rang out and you screamed, and the line went dead. Din froze.  _ No. No this wasn’t happening _ . He sealed the Razor Crest’s hull with a flick of a switch and rocketed into the air on his phoenix. 

Discretion be damned.

***

You ran, heart pumping, hearing stormtroopers firing and yelling to each other, the kriffing irony of the situation not lost on you. But this was not Enisca, there were no Rebellion sympathizers here, and there was no way you could evade them long enough for the Mandalorian to rescue you.

Your heart dropped.  _ The data disk.  _ If that fell into their hands hundreds of people would die. And if Leia didn’t get it, some of them would still die. Your stomach turns as you realize what you need to do. 

The third alley you turn into has what you need. Loose stones poke out of the walls all around you, and a dip in the wall hides you from view for a few precious seconds. You reach up, behind your ear, and peel off the fake mole. It’s a short-range tracking device designed to evade imperial sensors. You grab the datapad with shaking hands and press the tracker onto it. Then, moving as quietly as possible, you slide it behind one of the loose bricks. 

Mando will come, you know that much. And when he does, he will find the information that will save the Rebellion and the fledgling New Republic. You pray he will forgive you for giving up your only hope of rescue.

Marching boots pull you from your reverie. There isn't much time, now. You draw your blaster and take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the lip of the wall protecting you from the troopers. The kriffing  _ wall  _ crumbles and you tumble, nearly rolling into the stormtroopers feet. A moment of shock stretches out, then suddenly you are firing point blank up under the stormtrooper armor, screaming with shock and frustration. A blaster bolt hits and you are breathless with agony, your gun falling from your fingers. In your fading vision, you see a blaster raised over a white chestplate, then there is only darkness. 

***

The Mandalorian reaches your approximate location in less than five minutes. Not wanting to give your position away in case you were still being followed, he landed on a rooftop and began surveying his surroundings. The tracker indicated you were in an alleyway, so he dropped down to make his way around the back. Blaster drawn, he poked the sights around the edge of the wall.

The alley was empty. Din’s heart dropped as he stepped out from behind the wall, eyes searching for clues. He flipped on the footprint mode and saw your prints appear in red at the other end of the alley. Din noted how you had run halfway, then paused behind a broken wall. You had been hiding. He adjusted the spectrum and felt a pit form in his stomach at the sight of the stormtroopers boot prints. 

You had fallen through the wall, Din realized, rolling and presumably firing up at the troopers. Then nothing. No more prints. But, he realized with dawning horror, there was a puddle of still warm blood congealing on the cobblestones.

“No,” he whispered. Then he was screaming “No,” and Din threw his fist against the wall in frustration. Further down the wall a loose brick gave way and a familiar data pad fell to the ground. He froze. 

“Of course,” Din said, voice laced with bitterness. Of course you would complete your mission, prioritizing the information on your data pad over your own life. He bent and picked it up.

“I’m coming for you cyar’ika” the Mandalorian said, his voice steel, edged with rage. “I’m coming for them.” 

***

You woke with a start, nightmares leaving you flooded with adrenaline. You attempt to rest your head in your hands, but something cold and painful stops them halfway. Then it all comes rushing back. The informant. The alley. The data disk. The wall. You shiver, and a sharp pain punches through your shoulder.

Oh, that’s right. You were shot. 

You force your head to turn, to look at the wound, and realize it has been neatly cleaned and bandaged. Dread, slow and thick, curled though you. Imperials always healed their prisoners before torturing them. 

You rest your head against the cold damp walls of your cell, furiously fighting panic. Working hard to block out the hope that Mando would come for you. Hope would only break you. Your breathing slows, steadying as your training kicks in.

You have no business running ops. You will never be comfortable doing field work. Your expertise lies in blending in, charming people not with your wit, but with your disarming, innocent personality. People trust you as soon as they meet you. 

But you are Leia’s secret weapon. General Crix Madine himself said he’d never met anyone as talented as you. Leia trusts your mind with her deepest, darkest secrets because they all know you are unbreakable. Your missions weren’t just drops, they were word of mouth. From Leia’s lips, to their ears.

Your breathing slows more, the durasteel walls coming up, blast doors in your mind slamming shut. You are controlled, unbreakable, impeccable, blank. You know death is coming, and you are terrified. But you will never betray Leia. 

By the time they come for you, you are already gone. 


	3. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imperial officer POV side fic. Warning for descriptions of violence and blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this isn't your jam, pertinent details will be covered in the next chapter. These two assholes just begged me to write it.

“This isn’t working,” he ground out, barely loud enough for the other man to hear him. Commander Loyd Vax of Trooper Garrison 51036, let all his frustration bleed into his voice. This was his victory, dammit, his capture, his Rebel spy to interrogate. He was not pleased at being pushed aside by some fresh faced ISB Captain with next to no pre-Endor service. 

“You went too hard, she’s in shock. We’ll never get anything out of her now,” a splinter of fear pierced Vax’s stomach as he spoke. If she died before they broke her, it would be his head. He was aware that under no circumstances would the ISB allow their golden boy to take the fall. 

The golden boy, Captain Isac Branth, didn’t answer, instead stepping closer to the trooper currently working on the spy. 

“Any deeper, trooper, and she’s going to bleed out,” he said, and the trooper jerked in surprise, the blade he was using skittering across the spy’s arm. The knife glittered wetly under the lights. 

“Give it to me, and get out.” Branth's voice was mild, as though he were discussing the unusually warm weather.

“Yes, sir.” The trooper nodded, saluted and left. Branth studied the man’s handiwork, a line of equally spaced, bloody, jagged cuts that ran the length of her arm. The spy had been strung up between two beams, feet barely touching the floor. Her head hung forward limply, eyes shut. Bruises stood out starkly on her skin. Branth flipped the knife idly in his left hand as he shook his head. 

“Are all of your troopers so sloppy, Commander?” Branth wiped the blade on the spy’s pants. “It’s lucky I got here in time to take over.” 

Vax raged. This stupid boy with his puppy dog eyes and his hair out of regs and his mild voice and his inflated ISB credentials was going to kill him with his inefficiency.

“This is your fault, Captain,” Vax snarled. “My men only took over after you left to take a call.” Vax put as much derision as he could into the words. A kriffing call. His men were well trained. It was not his fault the spy’s life was in danger. 

Branth regarded him mildly, and cleared his throat to speak, “This woman is not unconscious.” Vax stared at him like he was out of his mind. 

“She’s dissociating, look,” Branth patted the side of her cheek a few times, then slapped her, hard. She jerked against the restraints, her eyes snapping wide open before glazing over. Blood dripped across her face at the sudden motion, and she swayed as she lost her footing. 

“She’s still in there, just not at the driver’s seat right now.” A grudging look of admiration crossed his face. “She put herself in there before this all started, it would be pointless to continue.” 

“Don’t you ISB assholes have access to IT-O droids,” Vax ground his teeth as he asked.

The other man waved him off, “even if I let the droid at her, it wouldn’t get anything. She’s in too deep, we’ll have to quit for now.” 

“I am the Commander of this garrison, Branth, this is my prisoner and we will continue as I see fit,” Vax growled, “you are not in charge here.” 

“I outrank you,” Branth said simply. He turned to the two troopers guarding the door. “Cut her down, clean her up and put her back in her cell. We’ll let her sleep off the trance and begin again when she starts feeling her injuries.” 

The troopers moved to obey without even glancing at Vax. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut, fury draining out of him along with the breath he’d been holding. They cut the ropes stretching the spy between the beams and she crumpled to the ground with a pained cry. Her eyes squeezed shut as her breathing went ragged. Branth looked at Vax in mild triumph.

“You see,” he said softly, “not unconscious.” Then the smaller man was moving across the room, grabbing Vax by his lapels and slamming him against the wall. 

“The ISB has jurisdiction anywhere it wants to have jurisdiction,” Branth hissed. “I have been hunting this particular Rebel for months now and I will not let you ruin this valuable resource with your irrational, petty fits of jealousy. I am your superior officer and you and all your resources are at my disposal,” he finished, his voice returning to its usual mildness. 

Vax couldn’t help staring. There was not a trace of anger in the man’s deep blue eyes, no twitch of rage in his face. He was mildness incarnate. A junior officer entered the room and stood at attention. Branth tossed his blonde hair out of his eyes, holding Vax’s gaze for another long second. Then he released him and backed up, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Report.”

“Captain Branth, Commander Vax, the starship seen escaping from Enisca has been confirmed to be in the spaceport about twenty klicks out. Apparently it didn’t register on our sensors, but we got visual confirmation a few minutes ago. It's the ship we originally assumed the spy left in.”

“It seems there is someone here to meet the spy,” Branth said. The junior officer nodded and continued.

“Shortly after they were captured, a Mandalorian left the ship. They found the alley where the altercation took place but our spotters lost them when they took to the air. There are currently no life signs on the ship”

“Commander, I want you to see to it personally that patrols are sent out to find this Mandalorian, and also to monitor their ship. I will see you here at 0700 tomorrow morning, to resume interrogation” Branth said, his voice clinical and controlled. Vax responded automatically, straightening and saluting.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very, good, Commander. You are dismissed.” 

Vax turned and left, already seething. 

  
  
  



	4. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebel Reader tries to hold on in an Imperial cell and Din races against time to rescue her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: graphic descriptions of injuries, thoughts of torture, angst and losing hope. Canon typical violence against stormtroopers

“Cara! Cara are you there? Cara come in.” Din’s voice was rougher than usual as he squeezed the comlink, begging her silently to answer. He was hidden on one of the rooftops surrounding the spaceport, watching the stormtroopers as they watched his ship. Grogu was in danger now, and he couldn’t get back to the ship without alerting the Imperials to his presence. 

“Here, Mando. What’s up?” Cara sounded amused.

“I need you to get to my location as fast as possible, Imperials have taken my agent and have the ship and Grogu surrounded. I need backup as fast as possible.”

“Shit, Din,” Cara answered, frustrated, “ I can't, I'm escorting a prisoner to lockup. I’ll comm Karga for you, he owes you and the kid.” Din hissed in frustration. 

“I need to get her out as fast as possible, this is a tiny garrison, they're gonna move her soon and then i'll have lost her.” The words spilled out, underlied with desperation.  _ I can’t lose her, I can’t I can’t I can’t.  _ “I need you to make Karga understand his job is to protect the kid in case I can’t, Cara. Please.” Cara was quiet for a long minute. 

“Be careful, Mando,” her voice was gentle, she was observant and used to Din’s moods. He was sure she knew how he felt about  _ his  _ agent. 

“I set up a scan shield, when Karga and his people get here it’ll look like the ship is empty. It’s not.” he said gruffly. “Give him my override codes.” Din barely felt the twinge of loss at another person knowing his security information. There wasn’t any time. 

“Can you get me any stats on the garrison where they’re holding her, Cara?”

“That I can do, Mando,” Cara’s voice was distracted, “ Let me comm Karga and then I'll pull up what I can find in the New Republic database. Get yourself an observation point and send me a scan.”

“Got it,” Din said tersely, and cut the transmission. He looked at the sun, his HUD telling him how little time he had left until dusk. He’d need to hurry to get the scans done before it was truly dark. 

***

You were floating. A hazy fog enveloped you, making your thoughts slow and heavy. Floating, disconnected from your body. A thin tendril of white hot pain holding you down. You felt like you might float away entirely. Slowly, so slowly, the fog began to clear. 

You blinked lazily, noting your surroundings for the first time in hours. Dizziness and nausea swept over you when you tried to turn your head, so you laid still, staring in unhurried silence at the ceiling. The white ceiling. With bright lights. And stark grey beams running its length. A searing stab of pain shot through your mind and you cried out, closing your eyes against the memory. 

An interminable amount of time later you tried again. Eyes open. Fog. Eyes open. Haze. Eyes open. Pain. You were so tired. Why were you so tired? The thoughts were there, in your mind, just out of reach. You drifted again.

The sound of metal slamming against metal jarred you from the comfortable haze. You knew that sound, or at least you had once. A door. The word burned against your mind. You struggled to hold on to it. Something about it was important. Your head turned slowly, taking in the cot, the white walls, the durasteel door, the tray on the floor, the shackles on the wall...

Pain cut through the fog like sunlight, burning away the haze, and the events of the last day came back to you in a rush. For a moment you couldn't breathe. Your arm burned like it was on fire and your whole body was screaming at you. There was something dark and crusty on your wrist, on your arms, on your blankets, on your chest. Your arm lifted and you stared at it like you had never seen your own hand before. On some level you knew what it was, what had happened, but your mind kept gibbering, skittering away from those memories like oil on a hot pan. 

_ You were awake. Why were you awake, you couldn’t be awake, you had to hold on.  _ You struggled to breathe, hyperventilating, air coming in ragged gasps. _ You had to die, you had to keep Leia safe, you had to keep everyone safe.  _ Thoughts crowded your mind, angry and accusing. You shook your head, begging through panicked tears for them to stop. _ You couldn’t be AWAKE. You had to keep them SAFE.  _

A sudden icy fear washed through you, chased by horror. There could only be one reason why they had left you alive and awake. Only one thing that would make them stop. You had broken. You had talked. You had given up the secrets of the only people who had ever loved you. The thought made you sick.  _ No, no it wasn’t possible. No. _

You curled over on your side, pulling your knees to your chest, the pain in your mind muffling the protests of your battered body.  _ No, no no no no no no no no no.  _ You dragged your arm over your face to muffle your sobs, barely feeling the sting of your tears on the fresh cuts. You deserved it. You were broken.

***

Din lay on his belly on a hill overlooking the garrison. He’d managed to avoid the squads of troopers looking for him, they were noisy and the white armor nearly glowed in the dark. His HUD overlaid Cara’s plans on the buildings in front of him. The thermal imaging in his armor allowed him to see faint heat signatures, people, even inside of the garrison. 

“It looks like there's a storage room or something at the end of the cell block,” Cara said. “It might be a good entry point.” Din nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him.

“I don’t have any thermals in there, none since I got here.” he said. “Guard sweeps are timed, look sloppy even with them on alert. The patrols they sent looking for me are still out, several swoop bikes are gone too.”

“Good, that's fewer men you have to fight your way through.” Cara’s voice was tight. “This plan is just bare essentials, you know that right.”

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to get her out of there,” Din grunted, distracted by the guards moving again, counting under his breath. Cara laughed lightly.

“You know you need to tell her.”

Din didn’t respond. Cara could read him better than anyone had been able to in a long time. But he was not going to discuss how he felt about you, about  _ his  _ agent, with her. Not when you were still being held prisoner. Not when you were being tortured for the secrets you kept hidden in your head. That thought made Din’s blood run cold. He pushed it away ruthlessly. He needed to focus. He needed a plan.

“How far out is Karga,” he asked, changing the subject.

“He’ll drop out of hyperspace in about an hour,” Cara was all business again, “but he said he has some associates keeping an eye on the troopers watching the Crest.” She snorted softly at the irony. “The kid is safe Mando, you can do whatever you need to do.”

Din closed his eyes in relief.  _ His son was safe _ . “I’m going to set the charges at the front gate, it should be dark enough. I’ll comm you again when I get back.”

“Comm Karga,” Cara said, “You need to coordinate your entry with his strike simultaneously, and I’ll be in hyperspace.” Din frowned.

“Where exactly are you escorting the prisoner.” He couldn’t keep his curiosity out of his voice.

“Hosnian Prime,” Cara sounded embarrassed. “It’s, uh, top priority, secret, you know.” 

“Got it,” Din stood, “Thank you Cara. You’re a good friend.” She laughed.

“I’ve got your back,” Cara said warmly, “Now get your shebs in gear.” 

***

You lay in the dark, completely cried out. You wanted to let yourself drift again. You wanted the numbness. But there was a niggling thought at the back of your brain. You had missed something important. You focused on the persistent little thought, distracting yourself from your surroundings. It took shape slowly, coalescing into a vague form, a single word. A word buried in pain and tears and fear and loud, sharp voices. It skittered away again and you chased it, making yourself push past the barriers your mind erected to keep out the pain. You knew where it was, in the foggy haze of torture. You didn’t want to look but you couldn’t help it.

_ Mandalorian. _

The word floated into your head with a fresh burst of mental pain. Your breath caught. Your captors had mentioned him. You vaguely remembered comming him just before the troopers took you. Was he here? Was he safe? Was he dead? You had to know.

Your stomach twisted in fear as you pushed slowly through the barrier in your mind. A thought from you making it permeable instead of solid durasteel. Sharp flashes of painful memories assaulted your psyche. A sob caught at the back of your throat. You steeled yourself and kept going, searching frantically for the voice. For some mention of your Mandalorian.  _ There _ . The voice faded in and out, but your recall was near perfect.

“ **_.... Mandalorian left the ship. They found the alley where the altercation took place but our spotters lost them when they took to the air. There are currently no life signs on the ship”_ **

Your heart clinched with a sudden, dangerous hope. He was here. He knew you had been captured. You knew with certainty that he would try to find you. That he would try to rescue you. 

Lost in a haze of hope, you almost missed it, another voice burrowing its way out of the pain it had been buried under in your subconscious and into your waking thoughts. 

**_“.....even if I let the droid at her, it wouldn’t get anything. She’s in too deep, we’ll have to quit for now.”_ **

You frowned, turning the words over in your mind, letting the pain bleed away. They were discussing your trance, you were almost sure of it. But why would they have to discuss quitting if you had already told them….

Your breath caught on the surge of joy that overwhelmed your body.  _ You hadn’t broken. Your secrets were still safe.  _ You pulled yourself into a ball again as you sobbed, this time in relief. You had held on. Your Mandalorian was coming for you. You just had to stay strong until he got here. 

That thought sobered you. Now that you were awake, it wouldn't be long before they came back, before they dragged you back into the torture chamber and tried to make you talk again. Your stomach curdled at the thought. You had to put yourself back, had to dissociate, had to go even deeper this time. 

The wave of panic that washed through you was stronger this time, threatening to pull you under. Dimly, you realized why Madine had called hope toxic, a liability. If you couldn’t do this, your friends would be exposed. But if you did, you might lose yourself. You might not wake up as yourself.

Your chest was so tight you couldn’t breathe. Everything was spinning out of focus, pain crashing over you. Pain and hopelessness and fear and hurt and hope. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to think, it hurt to hope.

**_“If you need me to, I’ll come back for you,”_ **

You stopped struggling against the tightness in your chest. 

**_“If you need me to, I’ll come back for you,”_ **

His voice echoed through your mind, calming your panic attack. You could breathe again. You needed him. He would come. Your eyes fluttered closed. Pain washed over you. Your mind floated.

_ A Wake Word _ .

“Of course,” you breathed, coming back to yourself with a snap. You could program yourself to come back to his voice, to his words. But what would he say that your captors wouldn’t. You closed your eyes again, pain and exhaustion enveloping you. You just had to stay awake for a few more minutes. Just... Just had to do... Just had to do this one last thing. For Mando. Because you loved him. Because you couldn’t stand the thought of him coming back for you and finding you an empty shell, broken beyond repair. 

**_Cyar’ika_ **

His voice echoed in your mind again. He’d called you that since your sixth mission together, when he’d insisted on coming with you to your meeting with a spy, and had taken the sniper shot meant for you. Your body warmed as you remembered how he had pushed you down, covering your body with his own. His beskar had turned the blaster bolts aside without any trouble.

“I’m your protector,” he had said softly when you confronted him later. You didn’t want anyone to die for you. But he had seemed so comfortable being the bulwark between you and death, and it both terrified and excited you.

**_Cyar’ika_ **

You didn’t know what it meant. You supposed it was Mando’a. You just knew that when Mando said it, it meant You. Your eyes closed, your breathing slowed, and you focused hard on his voice, on his words. 

**_Cyar’ika._ ** His voice.  _ I love you _ . Your voice.  **_Cyar’ika._ ** His voice.  _ I love you _ . Your voice.  **_Cyar’ika._ ** Breathe in.  _ I love you _ . Breathe out.  **_Cyar’ika._ ** Breathe in.  _ I love you _ . Breathe out.  **_I love you_ ** _. I love you.  _ **_I love you_ ** _. I love you. _

***

The Mandalorian crouched with his back against a tree, waiting. His helmet tipped back against the bark as he breathed slowly through his nose. An uncautious observer might have thought he was asleep, but his body was tight with tension. The hours before a mission were always full of anticipatory stress, but it was more personal this time. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were suffering, if he would find you in time. He took another deep, slow breath and counted out his exhale. He had to keep his mind off of you if you were both going to survive this. 

Din had set blast charges against the front gates, and thermal detonators against the fence in two places on the opposite side of the compound from where you were being held. Behind them slightly and set to go off immediately after, were the Black Cat blaster bombs. When they went off they imitated rounds of blaster fire and sprayed rounds in all directions. The garrison would have to react to that threat. Then, Din would sneak in through the empty room in the cell block, break you out, and make a run for it. Karga would have a ship waiting in the treeline just beyond the fence. Karga himself would lead the attack on the troopers at the spaceport to free Grogu and the Razor Crest. They would escape into hyperspace and Karga’s other ship would meet up with them outside the trooper garrison, to provide covering fire for the ship on the ground.

It wasn’t the best plan, but it was straightforward. Din settled back onto the ground. There were still two hours until the guard changed at 5 minutes to 0700. They would attack in the middle of that chaos. Din was confident in his abilities. He knew he could get in and back out. The only true variable would be your condition. Din didn’t think he’d be able to fight his way out if he had to carry you. He closed his eyes, breathing. It wasn’t worth thinking about. 

Simple. Straightforward. He would either rescue you, or die fighting at your side. He could live with that. 

***

“Sir!” Commander Loyd Vax looked up from his datapad. The communications officer stood at attention in front of him.

“Report,” he said shortly. He hadn’t slept much the last night, and he was due to meet Captain Branth in the interrogation room in five minutes. His patience was already short.

“Sir, the troopers at the spaceport have come under attack by a heavily armed group of what appears to be mercenaries. They are requesting backup and air support.” Vax kept his jaw from dropping, but only just barely. What in blazes could be on that ship that was so important?

“Request granted, the 313th are on support alert, have them head out on troop transports and get our pilots in the air.” Vax’s garrison had four TIE fighters, a significant threat on this small planet.

“Yes sir,” the comms officer saluted and scurried away to send the orders. Vax stood, grinding his teeth again. Branth had said he’d been chasing this rebel for months. Now Vax needed to know why.

***

His com beeped, three long pulses followed by two short ones. Karga had begun his attack. Din rose, rolling his neck and stretching out his stiff arms and legs. He would wait for Karga’s second message before he moved. He tapped his vambrace, pulling up the controls for the charges he’d placed, and settled down to wait. Two minutes later, three troop transports pulled out of the garrison, heavily loaded and speeding for the spaceport. Din watched them coldly, calculating their speed and distance. He typed into his comm. 

_ Company in 6 minutes. _

A minute after the troop transports, four TIE pilots rushed onto the small landing pad outside the buildings. All four TIE’s took off, leaving a lone LAMBDA class shuttle on the pad. Din felt a sharp thrill of success. The TIE’s would have been a problem. 

_ TIE’s in two minutes,  _ he typed.

His com dinged thirty seconds later.

_ Package is safe. Scrambling snubfighters. _

Din closed his eyes in relief. A few of the mercenaries in Karga’s debt had their own fighters, they’d lead the TIE’s on a merry chase while the Razor Crest, carrying Grogu and Karga, escaped safely back to Nevarro.

He opened his eyes and pushed a button. Blinding white light flashed through the pre-dawn darkness as the blast charges wrecked the gates and the fence. Din was moving before the blaster bombs cut in. He couldn’t use his phoenix without risking someone seeing its light, so he ran to the spot in the fence partially hidden by vines. He had cut an entrance point into it earlier after disengaging all but the top string of electrified wire. 

Din moved cautiously across the open landing pad, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. Alarms were ringing in the garrison and troopers spilled out to the front and the side. The blaster bolts from his charges had nearly run out of energy, but they were still loud enough to cover the noise when he attached a small disintegrator to the cell block wall and ducked back. 

A small section of the wall crumbled and Din moved. He lept through the hole, bringing both blasters to bear and switching on his thermal imaging. To his surprise, there was a single trooper in the room, focusing on what looked like a computer attached to an examination table. The trooper didn’t have time to make a sound before Din shot him through the neck. He frowned, clearly this wasn’t a storage room. Some kind of medical facility then? Din moved to the door and pressed his back up against the wall, hand hovering over the door controls. He flicked a look up at the room before he pressed it, then looked again more slowly, icy horror flooding through his veins. It wasn’t a storage room. It was a torture chamber. 

The sharp, acrid scent of blood filled his helmet. The floor was stained red and brown, some of it new, but most of it old. Ropes and chains hung from the beams crossing the ceiling, corresponding with the largest stains on the floor. The lights were dim, but with his HUD Din could make out all the instruments hanging from the walls, blunt objects mixed with sharp. The examination table had thousands of tiny needles embedded in it, and the variety of controls where the trooper had been working hinted at multiple, terrifying uses. His mind’s eye conjured up an image of you, chained down on the table, and he swallowed hard, banishing the thought. He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now. Din smashed his fist into the controls harder than was necessary. 

Surprised voices echoed in the hallway but Din didn’t pay attention to them. He stepped through the door already shooting. He grabbed a blaster and twisted it, firing into the troopers face while kicking another. Blaster bolts pinged around him. There were only six more troopers in the corridor, and one Imperial officer, a young man with blonde hair and wide blue eyes. He was using a datacard to unlock a cell, and Din instantly knew it was yours. He just needed to reach the blast doors at the end of the cell block and jam them. He kept firing, taking out another trooper with a well-placed gut shot and slamming another bodily into the wall. 

The officer dropped the datacard, grabbing his blaster with fumbling hands, and aimed at him. Din set off his whistling birds. They shot into the air, curling and slamming into two stormtroopers and the officer. Din rushed the last two troopers guarding your cell. They stepped back a pace in surprise and Din aimed past them at the blast door controls. He could see a dozen troopers rushing down the hall towards him, and he needed to stop them or he would die. The blast doors dropped as the panel exploded, and fiery pain exploded in Din’s side as a blaster bolt grazed his ribs. He twisted, grunting, and brought the blaster up into the side of the trooper’s helmet with a resounding crack. Another bolt hit him in the back and he stumbled forward, legs tangling with the unconscious trooper as they fell to the floor. 

He rolled, pulling the other man’s body over his own, and aimed his flamethrower at the final stormtrooper. The rush of heat made him feel like he was baking in his armor, but the stormtrooper had it worse. He screamed in pain and fell backwards, flailing as he burned under the white armor. Din untangled himself and shot the trooper in the head. A mercy. He was breathing hard as he moved towards the cell. The blonde officer lay in front of the door, whimpering with pain over his injuries from the whistling birds. Din kicked him out of the way.

“Please!” he was blubbering noisily, “Please don’t kill me.” Din didn’t look at him, just took his passcard and unlocked the cell.

The door  _ whooshed _ open and Din’s heart stopped. You were lying on a cot, unmoving, covered in blood. He didn’t remember crossing the cell but suddenly he was at your side, using his vibroblade to cut through the restraints on your ankles. The HUD in his helmet lit up with your biometrics and he let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. You were alive. 

The sound of shouts in the hallway and banging on the blast doors shook him from his thoughts. Din checked your legs, arms and ribs for breaks with practiced motions, gloved hands skimming over the scabbing cuts on your arm. 

“Wake up,” Din whispered, gently touching your shoulder. You didn’t stir. A sliver of fear pierced his gut.

“They’re coming, you have to wake up,” he said, a bit more urgently. “Please wake up, Agent. Please.” There was no response. Your head lolled to the side against a blanket that was more bloody than not.

The banging on the blast doors became rhythmic, heavy thuds. They were breaking down the doors. Din could feel his heart beat in counterpoint to the noise. It was a race, his heartbeat against the stormtroopers breaching the doors. If he lost, you would both die.

Din lifted you easily into a sitting position, pulling your head against his shoulder. He slipped a strand of hair behind your ear, wincing as his fingers passed fresh bruises.

“Please, cyar’ika, wake up,” he whispered in your ear. “I love you.” 


	5. Named

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian rescues his Rebel Agent, but escaping the facility is going to be harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of injuries, hostage situation, blood, angst, finally fluff. 
> 
> A/N: I struggled hard with this chapter but I’ve already written a bunch of what comes next so I’m biting the bullet on this one.

“Please, cyar’ika, wake up, I love you.” The words echo in the tense silence of your cell. The Mandalorian holds you against his chest, his enhanced sensors listening for any change in your breathing, any sign that you were waking up. He blinks hard against unwelcome tears. The sounds of the stormtroopers breaking down the blast doors battered at his composure. There wasn’t any more time. 

“Cyar’ika,” he breathed, almost imperceptibly, into your ear, one last attempt at waking you. “Please. I can’t,” his voice hitched, breaking _,_ “I can’t carry you out. I need you to wake up.” 

A sudden, gasping breath, like that of a drowned person being resuscitated, rattles through your lungs, and you were coughing. Your eyes drifted open and Din felt the sharpness of relief. He pulls you into his arms, rocking you gently. You blink, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you tried to focus.

“Mando,” your voice was horse from disuse. Din didn’t let himself think about the other reasons. You blinked slowly, hope dawning in your eyes. Your hand reached shakily up to cup the side of his helmet. Din’s stomach twisted at the cuts on your arm and the soft sob of pain that slipped out when you shifted in his arms. 

“You came for me,” your voice was soft, awed, dazed. Your hand drifted down his helmet, caressing his armored shoulder. “I knew you would come. I love you,” your eyes blinked, drifting shut. Din’s heart froze. _She said it again. She loves me._ Your hand fell to your chest and you relaxed back into his arms. Fear spiked sharp in Din.

“No no no, Summer, you have to stay with me,” he shook you sharply. Your eyes fluttered open.

“Isso hard,” you slurred, “m’eyes hurt.” Din pulled a stim shot from his belt and pressed it into your upper arm. He couldn’t afford to try to carry you out. Not with the whole base aware of his presence. He’d spent too much time trying to wake you already. You jerked sharply, pulling away from his arms and sitting up fully.

“Oh,” you gasped, breathing hard. Your eyes focused for the first time since you’d opened them. Din stood.

“We need to go, now,” he said.

***

Your Mandalorian stood, hand outstretched, ready to take you out of here. A stim shot casing lay on the floor at his feet. You stared at it, your mind rapidly piecing together the events of your rescue. 

“Oh,” you said again, taking his hand, “Okay.” He pulled you to standing as though you weighed nothing. 

“Can you walk,” his voice was tight with tension. Dimly you registered the banging noises in the hallway. 

“If i need to, Mando,” you replied, squeezing his hand “I can run.” He exhaled heavily through the modulator. 

“My name is Din,” he said softly, pulling you towards him, “Din Djarin.” His arms wrapped around you so briefly you wondered if you had imagined it. _Had your stoic Mandalorian, had_ **_Din_ ** _, really just hugged you?_ “I want you to know my name.” Then he grasped your arm, pulling you after him towards the door. 

Your mind spun, trying to catch up. He was rescuing you. You had known he would. You stumble, your body still not reacting the way you needed it to. If you were going to escape, you needed to be helpful. He stepped into the hall before you, his arm coming up to keep you back while he scanned for hostiles. 

The hallway was littered with the bodies of stormtroopers, all unmoving. You trip over a blackened suit of armor and Din catches your arm, steadying you without looking. The blast door was nearly bent in two, and fear seized in you, quick and cutting. 

“Mando, _Din_ , I need a blaster,” you rasped. He hands you his second blaster wordlessly, readying his weapons. You turn it in your hands, familiarizing yourself with the grip. A loud screeching makes you jump. Then the blast doors crack from top to bottom and you and Din whirl together to face the door. 

“They’re coming through,” your voice shook as you spoke. Din flicked his wrist back, away from the door. 

“Go, I'll cover you, there's a ship waiting in the treeline.” He brings his blaster up, training it on the growing hole in the door. You turn, ready to run, and see where he was directing you. The door to the torture chamber. You freeze.

“Din,” you whisper, “I can’t. Not in there.” He turned, saw the fear in your eyes, the way you couldn’t move. You felt helpless and embarrassed. You were supposed to be stronger than this.

“You can do this, cyar’ika,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’ve got you.” Din’s off hand rested on the small of your back, pressing you forward. He kept his blaster trained on the door as he backed the both of you up. 

Your movements were jerky, stilted. One foot in front of another. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. But you could move, with Din. With your Mandalorian. You could do that.

The blast doors break open with a crash. Blaster bolts crashed around you. You hear Din’s blaster firing back, hear the pinging of bolts hitting his armor. Your blaster hangs forgotten in your hand. It’s all you can do to keep walking until you are through the door, standing still, staring straight ahead. Din’s harsh breathing echoes around you as he pushes you out of the way. You stumble forward into darkness.

***

The Mandalorian stepped backwards steadily, blaster bolts landing all around him. Din was careful to keep himself between the troopers and the woman he had come to save. He could feel the way you were shaking through his gloved hand, gently but firmly pressing you back towards safety. The troopers were falling to his well placed shots, but he could see more running through the hall towards the fight. _Just a few more steps._

A sob slips from your lips as you walk through the door and Din feels his heart twist. He doesn’t want you to have to endure more trauma escaping. The troopers stop their advance and line up a short distance away and Din knows what’s going to happen before it does. He picks up his pace, his free hand shoving you from where you stand frozen, out of the way of the massed fire. His blaster barks with a few frantic final shots and then he’s jumping backwards through the door and twisting to the side to avoid the hail of bolts as he slams the door controls, locking it from the inside. 

For a moment there is only the rasp of his breathing, echoing in the dim room. Then you scream. Din whirls, searching, blaster already up and ready. Dull horror floods his veins. The blonde officer he had spared in the hallway stands across the table from him, his blaster aimed at him and a thin knife pressed against your throat.. The officer grimaces, baring his teeth in a rictus of pain and violent joy. His torso is soaked in blood from his earlier injuries.

“Can’t let you have her back,” he whispers. “I’m having fun with her.” You whimpered as he spoke, a single tear rolling down your cheek. “She still has too much left to tell me,” the man continued, drawing the blade slowly across your throat, a scratch not even deep enough to bleed. Din felt himself go cold at the warning, calculating, falling completely into hunting mode. He moved slowly down the stairs.

“Bounty hunter,” the officer snarled, “drop your blaster or I cut her throat and you can watch her bleed out.” He was moving too, keeping the table between him and Din. You flinched when he pulled you against him.

“Her life is the only reason you aren’t dead yet.” Din growled. “Let her go.” His voice was steady, belying his fear. He kept moving, kept his blaster trained on the Imperial. 

“The troopers are going to break that door in a few seconds,” he sneered. “She’s dead either way. You are too, Mandalorian.” 

“No,” your whimper pulls both men’s attention to you. “Please don’t hurt him.” Din’s heart constricts as you look up at him, eyes wide with fear and pain and something else... The officer grins like a child on Life Day, his eyes lighting up wickedly. 

“Oh, so he’s important to you, sweetheart,” he purrs, licking his lips. “Maybe you’ll finally answer my questions when I cut him into pieces.” You shriek, pulling against him and his knife cuts deep into the skin between your clavicles. The officer’s eyes widen, inadvertently following the blood dripping down your chest. 

Din thinks he’s never moved so fast in his life. His shot takes the man in the head the moment the knife moves away from your skin. He drops without a sound and you crumple to the floor, sobbing soundlessly. 

***

Strong arms encased in metal pick you up, carrying you through the room that holds so much trauma. Rescuing you, pulling you through the fog. Bright sunshine pours through a hole in the wall. Then, suddenly, you were outside. You feel the wind on your face, the sunshine and the smell of warm grass wash over you. You inhale sharply, tears filling your eyes. _You were out._

***

Din moves through the room as quickly as he can without jostling you too much. Your skin was clammy and your eyes unfocused. He ducks through the hole he’d blown to the outside and looks down. The sunshine washes over your skin and you breathe in deeply. Focus and determination drift back into your face. You look up at him, eyes wet, as he set you down.

“Thank you,” you said, your shaky voice full of grateful conviction. 

“I’ve got you, cyar’ika,” Din said, letting his hand move over your cheek. You sighed, your eyes drifting shut as you nuzzled into his palm. 

“I meant it,” you said softly. “When I said I loved you. I meant it.” Din’s hand had moved down to the bloody cut on your neck, but your words jerked him to a halt. He looked up. You were staring at his visor, miraculously straight into his eyes.

“Cyar’ika,” he whispered, “I...” 

The sound of troopers breaking through brought both of you back to reality, blaster bolts narrowly missing you and pinging across his armor. Din cursed loudly, moving to shield you and return fire.

“We need to get across the landing field and through the fence, then we’ve got a straight shot to Karga’s ship,” he yelled above the chaos. You nod. 

“I can do this,” you say firmly, checking the safety on your blaster. “Let’s go home.” 

***

You were almost there, running for your life, adrenaline snapping through you. You could see the trees, knew that Karga’s ship was on the other side, waiting, the ramp down, for you and Mando. For _Din_ , he had said his name was Din. You felt warm, knowing that he trusted you with it.

He was behind you, his body directly between you and the troopers taking pot shots at the two of you. Blocking the blaster fire with his beskar and his body. You ran faster, stumbling on rocks and tripping in the shadowy dawn. Your whole body was in agony, the adrenaline pushing it back enough for you to run, but it was ebbing and you were terrified.

You heard the whine of the mortar shell a split second before it hit. The world was suddenly all dirt and smoke, flying up everywhere as you tumbled. Miraculously you landed on your knees, rolling to lessen the impact, and scrambled up. _Din. Where was Din._

You spotted him lying face down halfway back down the hill. Panic floods you, he wasn’t moving. The troopers were closing. You could still make it to the tree line. You looked at it with longing, cursing yourself, but you couldn’t just leave him. Your blaster lay a few meters away and you scrambled for it, keeping low as the troopers renewed their fire. 

Din pushed himself to his knees, groaning, and you felt a rush of relief. _He isn’t dead_. But you were both going to be if you couldn’t get him out of here.

Your hands came up, smoothly aiming the blaster. Bail Organa had insisted his daughter and her friends be trained in every form of hand to hand and small arms combat. _Winter had been good. Leia had been_... Kriff, you blinked back tears as you flicked the safety off and took aim. 

_Leia had been a goddess, fighting as though she had been born with a blaster in her hands, her instincts and her aim impeccable._ You were barely adequate. Someone was screaming, you dimly realized it was you. Din tried to stand and collapsed. You could hear his harsh breaths even through the chaos. 

Adequate would do fine.

Your first shot took the lead stormtrooper in the chest, tossing him back into his comrades. The blaster jumped in your hands, the recoil stronger than what you were used to. You swallow and steady your aim, taking out another, further back from the ones tangled on the ground. Your feet move without consulting you, down the hill to where your Mandalorian lies in a heap, struggling to get up. You are firing assuredly, years of training rushing back into your body. You have to get to Din, nothing else matters. 

***

The Mandalorian groans as he collapses, the fiery wave of adrenaline he’d been riding fizzing out. Hope gives way to dark acceptance. _At least she got away._ Din pushes himself up on one arm, praying it won’t give out. _At least… at least, maybe, he can cover her retreat._ He rolls onto his back, fumbling for his blaster. He doesn’t remember dropping it when he fell but he must have. She has his backup. The rifle is on Karga’s ship. His whistling birds are gone. _Dank Farrik_ , he's out of options and the stormtroopers are closing in. Stabbing pain shoots through his head when he sits, leaning forward to pull his vibroknife out of his boot _. At least he’ll go down fighting_. 

Someone screams, and Din jerks in surprise. His HUD gives him an unobstructed view when you rise out of the smoke. It curls around you, wreathing the bolts from your blaster in an ethereal glow. Din can’t move, stunned, as he watches you rescue him. 

You dodge a few bolts, taking advantage of the natural cover of the hillside, arms straining when you fire back. _That blaster has quite the kick_ , Din remembers vaguely. He hadn’t **known**. When had you gotten so good with a blaster? Fierfek, he usually had to force you to take the little hold out pistol with you. Yet here you were, firing accurately towards the stormtroopers as you ran, seeking out cover with a practiced air. A whole new wave of respect and admiration flooded him. You are still shouting something as you close in on him.

“I’m not a… kriffing field agent,” you scream over the sound of the skirmish, squeezing off shots with every word. “I… fucking… hate… this.” You’re yelling at everyone and no one as you weave through the shots, never stopping. “I’m not… cut out... for this!” you sob as you run.

You skid to a stop beside him, breathing hard, hiccuping in the back of your throat, and press the gun into his hand. Din blinks in confusion, but understands when you loop your arms under his and try to heave him up. He scrambles, but manages to get his feet under him and stand with your help. Then you’re moving, pulling his arm over your shoulder and letting him lean on you as you slowly back towards safety, prudently staying behind him and his beskar. Din raises the blaster and fires at the troopers, sending them scattering for cover. He feels stronger, he’s moving more steadily.

“Come on, Din,” you say hoarsely, “we can make it.” An electric shock moves through Din when you say his name, filling him with adrenaline. His arm tightens on your shoulder, steering you, and you begin to move faster. 

You are both running when you reach the treeline, Din’s arm still looped across your shoulders, but he barely needs the help. Din sees the ship, the ramp yawning open in front of him and relief washes over him so hard he stumbles. But you are there to catch him, trip up the ramp with him, fall with him on the dirty floor of an unfamiliar ship. 

“Go, go now!” you scream in the general direction of the cockpit, reaching up to slam the ramp controls. A few final blaster bolts ricochet through the hold as the rams shuts and the sublight engines rumble. The floor shifts as the ship takes off and you tumble onto his chest. Din catches you, holds you close. You lay there together, a tangle of arms and legs, listening to the screeching of the hull as you race through the atmosphere. Tears are still dripping down your cheeks.

Din rolls onto his side, caressing your cheek with his gloved hand.

“Don’t cry cyar’ika,” he says softly. “You’re safe now.” His fingers tangle in your hair, smoothing it away from your face, moving down your neck to the scabbing cut. You flinch.

“Ni ceta, cyare,” Din whispers, voice breaking, “I should've been faster.” You take his hand, squeezing it tightly, and Din knows suddenly that you don’t blame him. 

“Thank you, thank you for coming back,” you say through your tears. “I…” But Din gets there first.

“I love you, cyare.” His voice is stronger now. He brings his forehead down to yours. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

***

Every part of you hurt. There is a line of fire burning against your throat and numerous older cuts reopened when you helped Din to safety. Your ankle throbs where you turned it running down the hill. The hull of the ship is cold against your back and Din’s beskar is hard and unyielding against your bruised stomach. But you don’t think you've ever felt more comfortable in your life. 

Din’s hand is running over your face, your arms, your neck, as though he needs to feel you to believe you’re really alive. His other arm is pulling you against him in a tight crushing hug. He’s _holding_ you. He’s finally, finally holding you. And, he loves you. You feel like you’re floating again, but this time, instead of foggy pain, you’re riding a wave of joy and warmth and love like you've never felt before. You're crying again. 

“I love you too, Din Djarin,” you say softly. He shudders and grips your hand, drawing it upwards to his cowl. Your fingers wrap around the back of his neck, brush against the barest hint of skin. You shiver, gasping at the bold show of trust. It's almost a kiss, your bare skin against his. Then his helmet is tipping down again, pressing against your forehead. Your eyes squeeze shut. You could live in this moment forever. 


End file.
